


When the Clouds Break

by for_t2



Category: Original Work
Genre: Afterimage, Dark Fantasy, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Loss, Love, Pandemics, Post-Quarantine, Rain, Trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23220808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_t2/pseuds/for_t2
Summary: Even the rain knows the world can't be normal again
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	When the Clouds Break

Somehow, it now seemed silly that she expected the park to be full again. That she expected things to just go back to normal. Normal. Even that idea seemed silly now. There had been normal before the quarantine, normal during the quarantine, and now… Now Corinne supposed there was going to be a new normal, even if she didn’t feel like she could ever call it normal.

“What did I ever do to you?”

It was unfair how the sun hid from her behind the clouds. How the clouds stayed so still, like a grey stain across the sky. How there was no wind, no frost, no heat, how the weather wouldn’t change. Yesterday, when the prime minister had stood behind her podium and the announcement with a smile, Corinne wasn’t ready to face the world she barely remembered. This morning, when she woke up and the bed was a little too cold, her apartment a little too big, she didn’t think she could the world she remembered all too well.

So she ran.

Well, walked. Maybe it was just her imagination, but her breathing still felt a little erratic. A little wrong. And… And she wished she could remember every single morning run. Every single midnight climb. Every passionate speech made from the branches of her favourite tree. Every eye roll at Corinne’s stupid jokes about the people passing by below. Every scar on her arms and every wrinkle on her hands. Every single detail about Sophie that made her so alive. So real.

Every detail.

She had to remember.

She thought the park would be full. That everyone else would want to go back to normal. But even the river didn’t seem ready, the waters moving too slowly, her reflection too clear, the tree behind her too tall, and the world too grey.

She barely flinched when a lone raindrop tumbled down from the clouds and down her cheek. “You’re not allowed to cry.” Barely moved when the next raindrop hit. And the next. And the next. When the sky splashed down on her, bit by bit, soaking through her jacket and mixing with her skin. “It’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?”

The voice was too soft, too much like a whisper of wind between the rain. But far, far too close to hers. “You promised.”

“I’m not her.”

Corrine couldn’t look. But she couldn’t not look. “You…” She was almost like a hologram, bits of light caught in the raindrops as they fell. Like the shadow you see out of the corner of your eye, neither here nor there, but still too close. “Ghosts aren’t real.”

“It’s more like an afterimage.” It was the same smile. “Bouncing between worlds.” Her smile. “I’m just a hitchhiker.” She looked around at the empty park around them. “Who was she?”

“She…” Corinne knew she wasn’t supposed to put her hand to her mouth. “There was an outbreak, and she… She…” She promised.

“I’m sorry.”

“I can’t.” Corinne needed to go. Somewhere. Anywhere. Nowhere. “I can’t.”

“You know,” The hitchhiker pouted, and it was too real. “There’s a way to distract demons like me.” Even the way she shrugged was too, too real. “Before I lure you to a watery grave and all that.”

“I can’t.”

“Come on.” Somehow, the rain shifted. Almost curled around her hand and drew her towards the tree until she could smell the roughness of the bark. “The rain’s not going to last forever.”

The hitchhiker settled down in the wet grass just beyond the cover of the tree as Corinne slumped down. “It can’t be normal without her.”

For a few moments, the hitchhiker said nothing, letting the rain pour down, pattering against the water and the leaves. Just long enough for Corinne to catch the faintest glimpse of her in her own tears. “So tell me what made her beautiful.”


End file.
